Though I said that I’d share a story, in this issue, about a raid on a so-called “rescue” organization that was hoarding and neglecting dogs, I am not yet free to discuss it. The moment I can, I will, and I’ll explain then why I couldn’t talk about it now. For now, I’d just like to say that I wish I could award medals for bravery and compassion to the dedicated people I know who work in animal protection. The pay is low, the hours are long, the thanks are few, and the things they see on a daily basis are deeply disturbing.
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Because I mightily appreciate the work that animal protection workers do, I try to give back, in a way that I can handle, without losing all faith in humanity or getting depressed about all the homeless pets in the world. I donate money to my local shelter whenever I can afford it. I don’t make donations to far-off programs; I feel better about donating to a program I can monitor with my own eyes.
I also give my shelter all the stuff left over from our reviews – food, treats, beds, leashes, collars, toys, and books. I take pictures of the animals and put together the shelter’s occasional newsletter (which has a not-so-secret fundraising agenda). When the director asked if I’d serve on the shelter’s board, I accepted. I walk dogs, and I reinforce sitting and other calm behaviors in all the dogs whose cages I walk by.
Whenever I tell people that I volunteer at my shelter, though, they always say the same thing: “How do you not come home with a dog every time you go there?”
Of course, I’ve adopted one dog from my local shelter, my darling Otto. And I’ve fostered one very sick puppy, and spent a small fortune nursing him back to health. But I’m trying to resist bringing more dogs home; I love the relationship I have with my singleton dog.
Instead, to my friends’ dismay, I’ve turned into a dog pusher. I tell everyone I know about certain dogs I’ve worked with at the shelter. I’ve put out the word that anyone I know who is looking for any type of dog should tell me; I’ll find them a perfect match: young, adult, or senior; short-haired or fluffy; small or large; indoor or outdoor; pure-bred or adorably mixed. Sadly, every type of dog comes through my local shelter at some point. But I’m happy to bathe, house, provide some initial training, and transport the dog to their living room, if they want!
I don’t know how long I can maintain my overzealous adoption efforts; already certain friends who used to be happy dog owners – but who are currently dogless – are starting to become wary about answering the phone when they see my number pop up on the caller I.D. (Sorry, Beth and Bill!)
Currently, my shelter (and probably yours, too) is participating in Iams’ annual “Home for the Holidays” campaign, with lowered adoption fees for every pet. Tell your friends! And consider going down to the shelter, just to take a look.
